希望 Hope
我的心分外地寂寞。My heart is exceedingly lonely.
然而我的心很平安：沒有愛憎，沒有哀樂，也沒有顏色和聲音。Yet my heart is very much at peace: without love or hate, without sorrow or joy, and without color or sound.
然而我的心很平安：没有爱憎，没有哀乐，也没有颜色和声音。
我大概老了。I am probably growing old.我的頭髮已經蒼白，不是很明白的事麽？That my hair has already turned gray — is this not plain enough?我的手顫抖着，不是很明白的事麽？That my hands are trembling — is this not plain enough?那麽，我的魂靈的手一定也顫抖着，頭髮也一定蒼白了。Then surely the hands of my soul must be trembling too, and its hair must also have turned gray.
我大概老了。我的头发已经苍白，不是很明白的事么？我的手颤抖着，不是很明白的事么？那么，我的魂灵的手一定也颤抖着，头发也一定苍白了。
然而這是許多年前的事了。Yet this has been so for many years.
然而这是许多年前的事了。
這以前，我的心也曾充滿過血腥的歌聲：血和鐵，火燄和毒，恢復和報讎。Before this, my heart too was once filled with songs of blood: blood and iron, flame and poison, restoration and revenge.而忽而這些都空虛了，但有時故意地塡以沒奈何的自欺的希望。But suddenly all of these became empty, though at times I deliberately filled the void with a helpless, self-deceiving hope.希望，希望，用這希望的盾，抗拒那空虛中的暗夜的襲來，雖然盾後面也依然是空虛中的暗夜。Hope, hope — using this shield of hope to resist the onslaught of the dark night within the emptiness, though behind the shield too there is still the dark night within the emptiness.然而就是如此，陸續地耗盡了我的靑春。And yet, just like this, my youth was gradually worn away.
这以前，我的心也曾充满过血腥的歌声：血和铁，火燄和毒，恢复和报雠。而忽而这些都空虚了，但有时故意地塡以没奈何的自欺的希望。希望，希望，用这希望的盾，抗拒那空虚中的暗夜的袭来，虽然盾后面也依然是空虚中的暗夜。然而就是如此，陆续地耗尽了我的靑春。
我早先豈不知我的靑春已經逝去了？Had I not known long ago that my youth had already passed?但以爲身外的靑春固在：星，月光，僵墜的胡蝶，暗中的花，貓頭鷹的不祥之言，杜鵑的啼血，笑的渺茫，愛的翔舞……。But I believed that the youth outside myself still remained: stars, moonlight, the stiffened, falling butterfly, flowers in the dark, the ill-omened words of the owl, the cuckoo weeping blood, the faintness of laughter, the soaring dance of love……雖然是悲涼漂渺的靑春罷，然而究竟是靑春。Though it be a youth desolate and insubstantial, it is, after all, youth.
我早先岂不知我的靑春已经逝去了？但以为身外的靑春固在：星，月光，僵坠的胡蝶，暗中的花，猫头鹰的不祥之言，杜鹃的啼血，笑的渺茫，爱的翔舞……。虽然是悲凉漂渺的靑春罢，然而究竟是靑春。
然而現在何以如此寂寞？Yet why is it now so lonely?難道連身外的靑春也都逝去，世上的靑年也多衰老了麽？Could it be that even the youth outside myself has now passed away, that the young people of the world too have mostly grown old?
然而现在何以如此寂寞？难道连身外的靑春也都逝去，世上的靑年也多衰老了么？
我只得由我來肉薄這空虛中的暗夜了。I have no choice but to close with, in my own person, this dark night within the emptiness.我放下了希望之盾，我聽到Petofi Sándor(1823-49)的『希望』之歌：I set down the shield of hope, and heard Petőfi Sándor's (1823–49) song of 'Hope':
我只得由我来肉薄这空虚中的暗夜了。我放下了希望之盾，我听到Petofi Sándor(1823-49)的『希望』之歌：
希望是甚麽？What is hope?是娼妓：A harlot:
希望是甚么？是娼妓：
她對誰都蠱惑，將一切都獻給；She bewitches everyone, and gives all to everyone;
她对谁都蛊惑，将一切都献给；
待你犧牲了極多的寶貝——then, once you have sacrificed your most precious treasure —
待你牺牲了极多的宝贝——
你的靑春——她就棄掉你。your youth — she abandons you.
你的靑春——她就弃掉你。
這偉大的抒情詩人，匈牙利的愛國者，爲了祖國而死在可薩克兵的矛尖上，已經七十五年了。This great lyric poet, patriot of Hungary, died for his motherland on the spearpoint of a Cossack soldier — seventy-five years have now passed.悲哉死也，然而更可悲的是他的詩至今沒有死。Sad indeed is death; yet sadder still is that his poetry, to this day, has not died.
这伟大的抒情诗人，匈牙利的爱国者，为了祖国而死在可萨克兵的矛尖上，已经七十五年了。悲哉死也，然而更可悲的是他的诗至今没有死。
但是，可慘的人生！But ah, wretched human life!桀驁英勇如Petöfi，也終于對了暗夜止步，回顧着茫茫的東方了。Even one as fierce and valiant as Petőfi, in the end, halted before the dark night, and turned to look back at the boundless East.他說：He said:
但是，可惨的人生！桀骜英勇如Petöfi，也终于对了暗夜止步，回顾着茫茫的东方了。他说：
絕望之爲虛妄，正與希望相同。Despair, as falsehood, is precisely the same as hope.
绝望之为虚妄，正与希望相同。
倘使我還得偸生在不明不暗的這『虛妄』中，我就還要尋求那逝去的悲涼漂渺的靑春，但不妨在我的身外。If I must go on stealing my life in this 'falsehood' that is neither light nor dark, then I will still seek that departed youth, desolate and insubstantial — but let it be outside myself.因爲身外的靑春倘一消滅，我身中的遲暮也卽凋零了。For if the youth outside myself should once vanish, then the twilight years within myself would wither away too.
倘使我还得偸生在不明不暗的这『虚妄』中，我就还要寻求那逝去的悲凉漂渺的靑春，但不妨在我的身外。因为身外的靑春倘一消灭，我身中的迟暮也即凋零了。
然而現在沒有星和月光，沒有僵墜的胡蝶以至笑的渺茫，愛的翔舞。Yet now there are no stars and no moonlight, no stiffened, falling butterfly, nor even the faintness of laughter, the soaring dance of love.然而靑年們很平安。And yet the young people are quite at peace.
然而现在没有星和月光，没有僵坠的胡蝶以至笑的渺茫，爱的翔舞。然而靑年们很平安。
我只得由我來肉薄這空虛中的暗夜了，縱使尋不到身外的靑春，也總得自己來一擲我身中的遲暮。I have no choice but to close with, in my own person, this dark night within the emptiness; even if I cannot find the youth outside myself, I must at least, by my own hand, cast away the twilight years within me.但暗夜又在那裏呢？But where, then, is the dark night?現在沒有星，沒有月光以至笑的渺茫和愛的翔舞；Now there are no stars, no moonlight, nor even the faintness of laughter and the soaring dance of love;靑年們很平安，而我的面前又竟至于並且沒有眞的暗夜。the young people are quite at peace, and before me there is, moreover, not even a true dark night.
我只得由我来肉薄这空虚中的暗夜了，纵使寻不到身外的靑春，也总得自己来一掷我身中的迟暮。但暗夜又在那里呢？现在没有星，没有月光以至笑的渺茫和爱的翔舞；靑年们很平安，而我的面前又竟至于并且没有真的暗夜。
絕望之爲虛妄，正與希望相同！Despair, as falsehood, is precisely the same as hope!
绝望之为虚妄，正与希望相同！
（一九二五年一月一日。）(January 1, 1925.)
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What it’s about
A man takes stock of his own emptiness and finds that even that has been taken from him. His heart is unusually lonely and at the same time perfectly calm — no love or hate, no joy or sorrow, no colour and no sound. He must be old: his hair has gone white and his hands shake, so the hands of his soul must shake too. There was a time when his heart was full of bloody songs — blood and iron, flame and poison, restoration and revenge — and then all of it emptied out, and he filled the emptiness with a hope he knew was self-deception, holding it up as a shield against the night, though behind the shield stood the same night. That is where his youth went.
What is new is that the youth outside him seems to have gone as well. He had always assumed it was still there — stars, moonlight, stiffened falling butterflies, flowers in the dark, the owl's ill-omened cry, the cuckoo crying blood, the vagueness of laughter, love in flight — a sad and insubstantial youth, but youth. So he puts down the shield and goes at the night bare-handed, quoting Petőfi Sándor: hope is a whore, she seduces everyone and gives everything away, and when you have sacrificed your greatest treasure — your youth — she drops you. The poet died on a Cossack lance for his country seventy-five years ago; sadder still, Lu Xun says, that his poems are not dead yet. The line he ends on is also Petőfi's, and it is the one everybody quotes from this book: despair is as much a lie as hope. But where is the night? There are no stars and no moonlight, the young men are perfectly at peace, and in front of him there is not even a real darkness left to fight.
When it was written 背景
Dated 1 January 1925 — a New Year page. Lu Xun says in his preface to the English translation that he wrote it out of astonishment at how dispirited the young had become, which is the note the last paragraphs sound: it is the calm of the young that frightens him, not their anger. This is the piece to read if you read only one, and the place the 絕望之爲虛妄，正與希望相同 line comes from, but it is not easy. The Hungarian name and dates sit untranslated in the middle of the Chinese, the quoted stanza is verse, and the argument doubles back so often that the second half repeats the first almost word for word with the conclusion changed. 影的告别 and 過客 are its companions.
Words in this chapter 生词
- 靑qīng靑qīng — variant of 青 (qīng)
- 翔xiáng翔xiáng — to soar · to glide · variant of 詳 (xiáng) · (slang) shit
- 塡tián塡tián — variant of 填 (tián)
- 驁ào驁ào — a noble steed (literary) · (of a horse) untamed · (fig.) (of a person) headstrong · Taiwan pr. (áo)
- 爲wéiHSK 2爲wéi — variant of 為 (wéi) (HSK 2)
- 麽mó麽mó — tiny · insignificant
- 偸tōu偸tōu — variant of 偷 (tōu)
- 匈Xiōng匈Xiōng — Hungary · Hungarian · abbr. for 匈牙利 (Xiōng yá lì)
- 抒shū抒shū — to express · to give expression to · variant of 紓 (shū) · to relieve
- 僵jiāngHSK 7-9僵jiāng — rigid · deadlock · stiff (corpse) (HSK 7-9)
- 盾dùn盾dùn — shield (classifier: 面 (miàn)) · (currency) Vietnamese dong · currency unit of several countries (Indonesian rupiah, Dutch gulden etc)
- 着zhāoHSK 1着zhāo — a move in chess (Taiwan pr. (zhuó)) · trick; tactic · (dialect) okay; all right · (dialect) to put in; to add (HSK 1)